


Amputation

by waterbird13



Series: Tumblr Fics [194]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Amputation, Gen, Healing, Prosthesis, Sam loses a leg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-15 21:20:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8073082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterbird13/pseuds/waterbird13
Summary: Sam loses a leg due to a mishandled infection from hunting.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is another piece from Tumblr.
> 
> Warnings for infection and amputation, discussions over the difficulty of getting prosthetics and Sam's role in hunting.

Inevitably, things go bad for hunters. They just do.

It’s a bite that they try to treat themselves, with whiskey, water, and dental floss. In short, something they’ve done hundreds of times before. Nothing that should be outside the realms of an ordinary day, for the Winchesters.

But infection has never set in like this before. 

By the time they admit they can’t deal with it themselves and decide to their their forged health insurance a trial by fire test run, it’s too late.

The doctors run antibiotics and keep as optimistic as they can that they’ll save Sam’s leg, but in the end, the infection has taken hold and needs to be eradicated before it can spread and do even more damage. Sam loses his left leg, right above the knee.

Dean panics at first. Sam, for the most part, grieves. And then he does his best to listen to the doctors as they try to move him through the healing process, because he would like to spend as little time in this hospital as possible. Not that he knows what he’ll do when he gets out, but he knows he’s done with being here, ever since they took his leg.

Their goal for him is obviously a prosthetic leg, something they talk about time and time again, continuously pushing the idea onto Sam as he heals. Sam just shakes his head. No matter what he could have, or should have, no matter what the doctors promise, no matter how good their fake insurance is, it just won’t happen. Prosthetics are not cheap, to say the least. Sam just can’t.

Which is crushing, to some extent, because the doctors keep telling him what a prosthetic will do for his life. He could walk again, without crutches. But Sam’s a realist, and he knows what will and won’t happen, and this is firmly on the list of impossible things.

It’s getting to the point where Sam is going to just have to leave. He’s healed. He’s talked to their counselor, their physical therapist, their nurses, attendings, and specialists. There’s nothing they can do now, short of fitting him for a prosthetic leg he can’t afford.

Then Dean shows up with Sam’s laptop, flipping it open and biting his lip while he types furiously. Then he flips the laptop around, and shows the webpage to Sam.

It’s a bank account. Sam blinks, then wonders if his pain meds are too high again. He’s never seen so much money in one place in his life. “The _hell?”_ he asks.

Dean grins. “Lots of pool.”

Sam raises an eyebrow, looking overall unimpressed. Pool buys them a lot, but it’s not going to buy Sam’s prosthetic.

Dean shrugs. “Some credit card scams.”

Sam sits in stunned silence until the doctor walks in.

“Yo, doc,” Dean says. “Think my brother’s ready to be fitted for his new leg.”

The doctor looks over at Sam, seeking some sort of confirmation. Sam nods, face breaking into a wide grin.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam’s sweating furiously, but he wipes his brow with a smile. The physical therapist leaves him in peace to drink his water and take a break, and Sam’s glad for it. Not that he doesn’t want to push himself further, but, well, right now it’s good to have someone else who is helping him feel out limits.

The limits are growing every day, and Sam’s grateful for that too. When he lost his leg, he thought it was the end. He couldn’t afford a new one. He’d be on crutches, in a chair, for the rest of his life, and while there wasn’t anything wrong with that, it wasn’t what Sam wanted for himself. Hunters should be prepared for dismemberment as much as death, but Sam has never thought…

But Dean made the money come through, and Sam can walk. He can push himself through these exercises, training himself to walk all over again. Soon, he’ll be running. And things are back on track.

Dean hands him his water bottle. “Looking good, Sammy,” he says.

Sam’s smile widens. “Not bad, huh?” he says. “Not long before I’m outta here and back in the game.”

Dean’s own smile freezes. “What game?” he asks.

Sam rolls his eyes. _What game?_  “Football,” he says, rolling his eyes again. “What game do you think? Our _job_ , Dean, our _life.”_

Dean shifts from foot to foot, not meeting Sam’s eyes anymore. “Yeah, about that…” he says. “Don’t you think–maybe it’s a sign, man. For you to retire. Go back to school, or something.”

Sam sits perfectly still, because _what the hell_ , since when does Dean _encourage_  him to seek out an education? An education that doesn’t even mean much to Sam anymore, not now that he doesn’t have a legal identity, or job prospects, or any false sense of security in the mundane?

“Dean,” he says, as patiently as he can, “I’m getting better, You saw that.”

“Yeah,” Dean says. “You look good. But…hunting good? Sammy, you can’t.”

“Why can’t I?” Sam demands. “It’s my _leg,_  Dean. It works just fine.”

“What if something chases you, huh?” Dean demands. “What then?”

“People run marathons with these things, Dean,” Sam snipes. “I’m sure I’ll get there. I was a good runner before. I can be again.”

“Yeah, but…” Dean says, mustering up another rebuttal.

Sam rolls his eyes. “Dean,” he says firmly. “You paid for this leg. And I’m damn grateful, okay? But tell me this: what the hell was the point if I can’t use it to get my _life_  back? If I’m just as limited with it as I would be without it?”

Dean’s mouth opens, and closes, words failing him.

Sam sits back, somewhat satisfied. “I’m not chasing ghosts tomorrow,” he says. “Tomorrow, I’ll be here, again. And the day after that, too. But someday soon, I’ll be fit and ready to go, Dean. And I’m not giving up my life. Not when we’ve fought so hard for me to keep it.”

Dean doesn’t know what to say, apparently, but, finally, he nods.

Sam’s therapist comes back from her office, smiling. “Ready to go again?” she asks him.

Sam hauls himself up, getting his balance. “Sure thing,” he says. “Let’s go.”


End file.
